


Left Behind

by Zimra



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: (of the "vague discussions about Kareen's life" variety), Female Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Time Period: Vorkosigan Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimra/pseuds/Zimra
Summary: Amid the chaos of recovering from the Pretendership and planning a wedding, Drou and Alys have a quiet moment alone.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	Left Behind

The tiny parlor attached to one of the guest suites was blessedly empty. Drou breathed a sigh of relief and sank down on the room’s single couch, closing her eyes for a few moments. Normally she could tune out the sounds of the crews dragging away what remained of the Residence’s ruined north wing, but today the noise had bored into her brain and left behind a pounding headache. She thought she’d done a decent job of hiding it, but Lady Vorkosigan had noticed anyhow (sometimes Drou half-wondered if Betans were psychic) and ordered her to take some painkillers and lie down for at least an hour. She’d had to walk halfway across the Residence to escape the noise, but now that she was here the quiet was worth it. 

Drou leaned back on the couch and shut her eyes, waiting for the pills to kick in. She focused on her own breathing, on clearing her mind of the half-dozen tasks she really ought to be doing, trying to let herself relax as Cordelia had instructed. As her headache gradually subsided, she began to doze, floating into an unmoored half-sleep where her breathing gave way to muffled voices and a loud pounding noise that mirrored the sounds of the work being done outside... 

_She sits on a bed in the Imperial Residence, listening to a man scream from rooms away, his rage carrying through two locked doors and the space between them._

_“You can’t hide from me forever, you traitorous bitch!” The accompanying crash sounds like he threw something at the door. “The longer you keep this up, the worse it will be when you finally come crawling back!”_

_The woman he’s talking to sits on the bed next to Drou, and Drou is holding her trembling body tightly. She’s curled up against Drou’s chest, her head bent, dark hair falling over her face, limbs pulled in as though trying to make herself disappear -_

_now Drou’s arms are empty but her hands are full of nerve disruptor, and she’s standing up in a different room in the residence, her whole body shaking -_

_when she looks down she sees that same woman lying on the floor, her red robe pooling around her like blood, limp in death..._

Drou jerked awake, gasping, disoriented for several moments before realizing she had slid sideways and was now lying down on the couch. The world spun slightly as she pushed herself back up into a sitting position; her headache was gone, but the dream - or flashback, or fractured memory - had left her feeling sick, carefully-suppressed anger and grief clawing their way from her mind into her stomach and heart. Before Drou knew it she was weeping, loud, violent sobs that made her whole body shake. 

She was crying so hard she almost didn’t hear the knock on the parlor door. 

Before she could begin to react, the door creaked open slightly, and a familiar voice said, “Hello? I thought I heard…oh, Drou! What’s the matter?”

Lady Alys Vorpatril had appeared in the doorway, her perfect dark brows pulled down in a look of concern. 

Drou dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, embarrassed. “I’m alright, my lady,” she said, trying to pull herself together. 

“Please, call me Alys,” Lady Alys insisted, for what must have been the hundredth time since she’d offered to help plan Drou’s wedding. She sat down beside her on the sofa, near enough to offer comfort if necessary while giving her plenty of room to breathe, for which Drou was grateful. “Is it the wedding? I know it’s been a whirlwind so far, but I promise everything will be ready in time - you have nothing to worry about.” Alys smiled reassuringly, but Drou saw real concern in her eyes. 

“It’s not that,” said Drou. Lady Alys had taken over the wedding plans so capably and completely that Drou’s primary role now was to show up for dress fittings and approve decisions before they were finalized. The frenetic pace of palace life in the aftermath of the Pretendership was certainly stressful, and she had plenty of responsibilities, but the constant bustle left little time for reflection and mostly served to distract Drou from her own thoughts. It was the quiet moments between tasks that she feared. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alys said gently, “but if you ever want someone to talk to, I’ll listen. It’s the least I can do, after all you’ve done for me.” 

Drou flinched. She felt her face flush, hot tears building behind her eyes once more. Why did this woman insist on being so kind to her? Lady Alys owed her nothing - Bothari had delivered her baby, and Kou had smuggled them out of the city; all Drou had done was wait an instant too long to pull a trigger. On her worst days, the fact that Alys did not seem to blame her for Lord Vorpatril’s death made Drou feel as though she would choke on her own guilt.

And Alys had known Kareen, had been her friend for years before Drou even entered the Princess’ life. Drou had not known Lady Vorpatril well back then, but she’d liked her - the care Alys showed for Kareen was genuine, not some attempt to gain influence in the palace, and Kareen had always seemed bolstered by her company. What would Alys think if she knew Drou had failed to save the Princess, too?

Drou was so lost in thought that she almost didn't hear Alys say quietly, "I think about it every day, you know. Most nights I dream about it.” Drou’s heart rate spiked; her whole body went hot and prickly with fear, nausea gripping her stomach. _This is it._

Alys wasn’t looking at Drou, instead speaking calmly to her hands folded demurely in her lap. “I think about what might have happened if Padma hadn't left to find a doctor, if we'd been out of the city when Vordarian's troops attacked, if one of Aral's people had found us before the soldiers did. I keep looking for someone to blame - Padma for leaving me alone, myself for not trying harder to make him stay, Simon Illyan when I found out he'd come to the city and hadn't looked for us..." she shook her head. "It doesn't help, but that's not enough to make me stop doing it.” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Sometimes I can still smell his hair burning. I was nearly sick, at his funeral - the smoke from the offering brought on such vivid memories that for a moment I thought I was back there again.”

It was easy to forget that Lady Alys was only two years older than Drou, and of an age with Kou - she always seemed so composed and self-assured. Her grey widow’s gown and sober hairstyle lent her a further air of maturity, as did the grave expression her face slipped into whenever there was nothing in particular to occupy her attention. Though Alys was considerably shorter than Drou, she was so skilled at commanding the attention of others that Drou rarely thought about it. Now, with her gaze lowered and her voice shaking slightly, she looked young and small and vulnerable.

Drou found herself fighting back tears again. Of course she deserved to know what Lady Alys had suffered, but hearing it in her own voice, seeing this dignified, confident, _kind_ woman brought low by grief and knowing that she bore some responsibility for her loss was almost too much to bear. 

“My lady, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “I could have done more to save him, and know I can never make things right. I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Alys looked up, appalled. “No! That isn’t what I meant at all!” She leaned closer and took one of Drou’s hands in her smaller one. “It’s not your fault Padma’s dead, anymore than it is Aral’s or Cordelia’s or Captain Illyan’s. I thought…I was only trying to say…that I know what it’s like, to watch someone you love die right in front of you, without being able to stop it.” 

Her voice was so gentle, so sympathetic, and there could be no doubt what she was referring to. Drou burst into tears, all pretense of calm shattered. She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders, wishing she could make herself small enough to vanish. 

“H-How did you know?” she choked out. 

Alys’ grey eyes had gone wide and anxious, but she kept her voice gentle. “Cordelia told me that Kareen died in the confrontation with Vordarian, and I wanted to know what happened. Her description was pretty straightforward, and she didn’t linger on the details, but she said you were there. I know you would have saved her if you could, just like Cordelia would have. And…I know you cared about her a great deal.”

“I did. I do,” Drou whispered. Even now she could not easily describe the way she felt about Kareen; the word “love” seemed at once too bold and vastly insufficient. “I should never have left her. I should have been there; I should have died instead of her. If I had moved a little faster I might have saved her.” 

“That’s like saying I could have saved Padma if only I’d waited a few more days to go into labor,” said Alys, a little sharply. “Padma isn’t dead because of me, or you. He’s dead because Barrayaran soldiers were willing to shoot a drugged, unarmed man in the middle of the street.” Her voice was heavy with bitterness. 

“None of us have any idea what would have happened if we’d done things differently. If you hadn’t stayed with Cordelia, she might not have been able to save Miles; Ivan and I would certainly be dead if you hadn’t found us in time. I owe you and Lieutenant Koudelka my life - no, don’t argue,” she said fiercely, as Drou made a rather feeble sound of protest. “But that’s not all I’m grateful for. Kareen… she talked to me about you, sometimes. She said you were one of the only people who truly cared about her for who she was, and not just as a piece in a political game. You made her feel safer than she’d felt since before she married Serg. She loved you, and I know she’d want to see you happy, and she’d want me to help you in any way I could.” 

It took a moment for Drou to realize she was crying again. She wiped hopelessly at her eyes with the back of her hand, and sniffled. Alys pressed a fine linen handkerchief into her hand; it was so delicate that Drou hesitated to use it, but Alys stared at her pointedly until she gave in and blew her nose. 

“I wish I could have done more,” Drou said. She knew she sounded miserable, but there was no point in hiding that now, not from Alys. “I didn’t come to the palace until after her estrangement from Prince Serg, but I figured out pretty quickly why she feared him. And there were nights she couldn’t sleep from the nightmares, nights she begged me to talk to her just so she didn’t have to hear Serg’s voice in her head.” Tears pooled in Drou’s eyes again, and she didn’t even bother to brush them away this time; she just let them well up until they clouded her vision and overflowed, dripping onto her lap. 

“When she asked me if I wanted to work for Lady Vorkosigan, I had to think about it for days before saying yes. It was supposed to be for my education - Cordelia was the first female soldier we’d ever met, and Kareen thought I could learn from her. She never _said_ she wanted me to get the measure of the new Regent and his wife, but in my head I was determined to do just that. Now I wonder if she sent me away because she thought I’d be safer with the Vorkosigans - I suppose I’ll never know for sure. I was still reluctant to leave her side, but I thought, with Serg gone…even if Lord Vorkosigan didn’t seem like a threat at the time, he was in the best position to become one, if he ever developed such an ambition. So I left. And by the time I realized I was wrong, it was too late to go back.” It all became too much again, and she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“But you did go back.” Alys placed a hand on Drou’s upper back, and traced gentle circles between her shoulder blades as she spoke. “You risked everything, defying Aral and returning to the capital. You’re the reason Cordelia got inside the Residence without being shot on sight or captured at the perimeter. Kareen saw you brave enemy territory for her; she knew how much you cared. And if his man hadn’t shot her, you would have saved her from Vordarian.”

“But I couldn’t have saved her from him, not really,” Drou said, so quietly she was not sure Alys would even be able to hear her. But when she looked up, the other woman was as attentive as ever. Drou felt the heat of shame rise in her face - she had no right to speak to anyone of this, to expose Kareen’s pain for something as selfish as her own catharsis - but she had already begun, and there seemed no point in stopping now. 

“Vordarian…we were too late. He’d already publicly declared his intention to marry her, and I guess that was enough for him to…when we first found him in the palace, they were asleep in the same bed.” Drou’s voice shook, from rage or grief or both, she wasn’t sure. “She never wanted to be with another man, after Serg. I saw the relief on her face when she found out Lord Vorkosigan had gotten married. Whatever Vordarian did to her, it was against her will.” She shook her head. “I swore I would die before I let anyone hurt her like that again. I broke my promise.” 

Alys sat quietly for a moment, her gaze distant and unfocused. She didn’t look surprised, but Drou couldn’t read any particular emotion on her face. At last she began to speak again. 

“I was eighteen when I left my family’s provincial social circle and came to the capital to find an advantageous marriage. I knew no one but my sister and her husband. Kareen was my first real friend at court; Padma was the second.” She smiled a little as if recalling some pleasant memory, her lips trembling. “I was a perceptive girl, and Kareen presented something of a mystery to me at first; kind and gracious, but frustratingly opaque. I resolved to get to know her better, and it didn’t take me long to find out why she behaved the way she did; Serg’s abuse wasn’t the open secret it became later, but there were whispers even then.

“When I found out how bad things really were, I was angrier than I had known it was possible to be. I wanted so badly to help her, but there was nothing I could do - I was young, I had no influence, I was a girl. I could only support her by being her friend. If she wanted a distraction, I talked to her about ordinary things; if she needed to tell someone about her problems, I listened. I visited her in the hospital, the time that Serg put her there. But he kept hurting her, and I couldn’t _stop_ it.” Alys’ voice had grown hard and angry, and her grip on Drou’s hand tightened. 

“When things finally became better for her, I had nothing to do with it, and I knew that if things got worse again, I wouldn’t be able to change them back. I never want to feel that powerless again. But this is Barrayar,” she said bitterly, “and I am only a woman; a widow, now. I’m sure there will be men lining up as soon as I’m out of mourning, to try and take what little power I have for themselves.” 

She let go of Drou’s hand abruptly, as though she had just realized how hard she was squeezing it. “I’m sorry, Drou - I don’t mean to sound so bitter while I’m in the middle of planning your wedding. Kou is a wonderful man, and I imagine you’ll be very happy together. But Vor marriages are different. I got lucky, with Padma; I doubt I’ll be so lucky a second time.” 

Drou had no idea what to say to that, so she said nothing, and the two women sat together in a strange, companionable silence, neither looking at the other. After a while, Alys spoke again.

“Kareen was the strongest person I ever met. But she shouldn’t have had to endure the things she did. I hope no one else I know ever has to be that strong.”

“I miss her,” Drou mumbled, still staring at the floor. It wasn’t enough, it could never be enough, but it was true, and saying it aloud eased something within her. 

“I miss her, too,” said Alys, her voice feather-light. “And so shall we both, for as long as we live.” 

Now it was Drou’s turn to reach out and take Alys’ smaller hand in her own. She held it gently; a momentary foolish impulse told her that if she did not, she might break it. 

“Thank you,” Drou whispered fervently. “I haven’t…talked much about this to anyone. Kou knows most of it, but we’ve both been so busy lately I feel like I barely see him.” And even Kou did not yet know the depths of Kareen’s suffering under Serg, or the despair Drou had felt while the Emperor was dying and the Crown Prince still lived, the desperate plans she had formed in her darkest moments. She wasn’t sure she would ever tell him that. 

Alys squeezed her hand in return, and smiled. “If you ever need a friend, I’m here.” 

Drou marveled at how her perception of this woman had changed the space of a few minutes. Alys had never shown her anything but kindness, and yet until now she had been a little frightened of her. Now she could see past the somber, dignified High Vor widow, and know that beneath it all Alys was merely another young woman grappling with grief and responsibility, just like Drou herself. 

She managed a shaky smile back. “Same to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to Andy (@mirandatam on tumblr) and Juliana (@crocordile on tumblr) for beta reading!


End file.
